


To Be Loved

by BBJ_3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grief, Love, M/M, No Longer Pre-Slash, confused nephilim, love is confusing, some Cas/Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBJ_3/pseuds/BBJ_3
Summary: Love is confusing. It hurts. He loved his mother, and her love remains. He loved his father, but Castiel feels distant now that he's dead. Sam's paternal love mutes the emptiness, but every time Dean walks away, it grows a bit harder to ignore.Now translated into Chinese: http://onlylovefuji.lofter.com/post/1d53cd84_119eea9e





	1. Chapter 1

After the pyre, Dean kept away. More days than not, he only came back home to sleep. Sam came back earlier, brought food, or took Jack out around town, training him. When they went on hunts, Dean kept out of the hotel room, going somewhere that made Sam frown. Still, both brothers took care of him.

It should have been enough. Love was love after all. Mother had loved him. Father had loved him. While Sam had lost people, he treated Jack like a son. Dean...he'd come around. That's what Sam always said.  _Dean will come around._

Sam wouldn't lie. 

Most days, the words eased the uncertainty, but there were times when it just stretched the yawning emptiness inside Jack. Every time he looked into the mirror, he wondered what Dean saw in him. Sam didn't see a monster. Dean said he didn't see a monster anymore too. Dean lied. Castiel told Jack that Dean lied, but Dean lied to protect people. Lied to protect himself. The mirror never told Jack what Dean needed protecting from, but a knotted pit where his stomach supposedly was ached at the thought. He didn't understand it.

Want. That was what this was. He wanted something from Dean. Answers? Sitting across from Dean at every meal didn’t help. Every upward glance that dodged quickly away set his heart racing. A spot within his grace swelled. A scream ricocheting like a gunshot – _Dean Winchester is saved._ The only time he ever heard his father – felt his father’s presence.

But even that faded. Soon – Castiel drifted away.  No longer a voice in his head. Instead, the glimpse of green eye spread warmth across his body. Happiness. Dean Winchester made him happy. Jack held to that, and when Sam left to pick up food and Dean sat, staring into the space beside the undrunk bottle of beer as he often did, Jack slid into the seat beside him.

“Would you tell me about my father?” he asked.

A flash of green. Warm spreading. “Tell you what? Lucifer’s a dick.”

“No,” Jack frowned. “Tell me about Castiel.”

Up went the bottle, finally being tasted. Anything to avoid saying a word in  past tense about Castiel. Emotions wafted off the hunter. Grief mixed with so much love and yearning. Yearning like a famine deep in Dean’s soul as if Castiel’s absence left him a man stranded in a desert drinking the sand.

“Please,” Jack pressed.

Avoiding his eyes, Dean set the bottle down. “He was good. Strong. Saw good in places it wasn’t. Trusted too much.”

None of these words were lies, but there was so much love being held back. Reaching out, Jack laid a hand on the hunter’s thigh. He held on even as Dean’s leg jumped.

“You loved him,” Jack pushed. “Why?”

Dean shoved Jack’s hand back, and the Nephilim reached out to grab his bicep. A red hand print passed between them. A memory of a mirror and horror which turned to a deeper, more profound connection. Belonging. Someone to cry in front of and to beg for…this love ached. Trust when no trust was deserved. Faith even when faith was betrayed.

“Personal space, kid,” Dean said, pulling away, and Jack let him.

Blue eyes tracked Dean. “I’m not a child.” His lips quirked into a frown, and a wave of pain, grief, and heartache emoted from Dean. Jack’s eyes widened. “I remind you of him.”

Happiness. How could one person give him such joy? To be seen like Castiel. He’d never realized that was what he’d always wanted. Castiel was good, strong, and trusted too much. Dean needed that. They were a matched set like a door and its frame. They fit together, and this world no longer had a frame for the hunter to reside within.

“You want to talk to someone about…ask Sam,” Dean chugged his beer, tossing the bottle with the rest and storming off somewhere likely a mile at least away from where Jack was.

With a sigh, the Nephilim bowed his head. Dean made him happy. Dean needed someone good, strong, who trusted too much. Someone there when nobody else could be. Someone powerful enough to protect Dean Winchester.

Yearning grew. Blinking, Jack looked for Sam or Dean, but both were still gone. Someone close wanted something very badly. Walking aimlessly in search of whoever was yearning, Jack found himself in front of Dean’s bed. Though neatly made, Dean’s scent remained. Metal, leather, and an indescribable warmth like sniffing the sun. Inside Jack, the yearning grew still.

He’d wanted to be safe before, wanted his father too. This yearning stretched along his body like a rash. Itched in places he hadn’t ever felt need. His heart raced, and his grace condensed. Heat built, and he collapsed forward with his face burrowing into Dean’s pillow.  Though cool, he could imagine the warmth left behind hours ago.

Inhaling, Jack moaned. _Look at me!_ He wanted to scream at Dean. Grab him and hold him in place. Beg him to see him. Demand it. Was this what Castiel felt? Would he be angry with Jack? No. Castiel would understand. Dean needed someone. Someone good, strong…Jack could be good. He tried so hard to be good. With his powers, he was strong. He could be what Dean needed.

He slid his hips over the blankets. His dick swelled, and his heart raced. A glow of his eyes had the door shut and locked. Unzipping off his pants and wriggling them down, he pulled the hard length out. A war clashed in his head. Voices called and screamed. He belonged here. But not alone. Dean should be here too. Images rolled around his mind like a slideshow.

Running his hand up and down slowly, Jack debated for a moment before reaching into the far corner of his mind. He’d helped Castiel several times. They’d connected. Graces meeting. Some memories passed between, and while he’d avoided sorting through them before – at least the more private ones – he searched through them now. Tense glances – longing, wanting, like binary stars in orbit. So close but never touching – except…

_“Cas,” the Dean in Castiel’s memory whispered. The hunter arched beneath the angel’s touch. “Shit, don’t stop!”_

The hard C slipped into a long, moaning S. Dean avoided addressing him directly, but Jack remembered the few times the man said his name, the word flowed the opposite way. Soft at first and ending on a hard consonant. He tried to mix the two.

Slick skin – the heat of Dean’s hands in his hair. Chapped lips against his own – and white flashed before his eyes. Electricity shot out, draining the light and sending all the drawers flying from the nearby dresser.

First times were quick. He’d have to last longer for Dean. Castiel dragged out their intercourse. Kisses and touches the few times Dean let Castiel get that close. A desperation to hold onto and enjoy the fleeting window wherein Dean shifted from the untouchable hunter to the intelligent, loving man who hid beneath. A being of pure light – the most beautiful soul Castiel had ever seen – that Jack had ever seen.

“I want him,” Jack whispered into the emptiness of Dean’s room. “Please, Castiel, I want him.”

If he had been Castiel, he would’ve refused. Jack didn’t mind Dean having a past, but the idea of giving him up – even in death – curled like a snake within his stomach. Closing his eyes, he pressed his hands down against the mattress. A blink took away the evidence, but while Dean wouldn’t see anything, warmth spread over Jack’s body at the idea of an invisible claim.

Leaving the newly repaired room behind, Jack walked down the hall, pausing at Castiel’s door. He frowned, studying the number.

“I’ll protect him, Father,” he promised.

The voices no longer clashed inside him. Silent, they left him only his own thoughts. He could protect Dean because he was good, strong, and trusted too much. Because Dean needed, and Jack yearned.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat in the diner, drumming his fingers on the booth. Across the street, the suspected witch ran back and forth between her computer and her printer. The little travel agent shop blended in with the other family-run businesses on the happy little street. These sort of sights made Jack ache with envy. Sam said most kids wanted that. 

A soft fluttering sounded. When a thigh pressed against his own, Dean didn't even glance over his shoulder. "Personal space, Cas."

"Did my father appear this close to you often?" the nephilim questioned, and Dean jumped.

"Shit!" Turning to face Jack, Dean gritted his teeth. "Damn it. Don't just pop up like that."

"You didn't mind when you thought I was Castiel," Jack frowned. His blue eyes shadowed by his furrowed brow. 

The man looked away. Another question he wouldn’t dignify answering. Dean never said that. He never said anything important. Anything important didn’t have to be said. It was done. That’s how Dean Winchester worked. All of Castiel’s memories told him so, but Jack wasn’t Castiel, and Dean didn’t touch him.

“Good things are worth waiting for,” Jack reminded himself as Sam returned from the bathroom to sit down across from them.

“Thought you wanted to explore the library,” Sam phrased questions carefully.

They came as comments with a slight twitch in his mouth. Nothing like an accusation. Everything avoided even the most minor suggestion that Jack wasn’t wanted, but Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean, and Dean pointedly looked out the window.

“I read everything,” Jack replied, reaching across Dean to grab the advert menu. In the process, he pressed his body against Dean’s from thigh up to chest.

The hunter flinched away, careful to avoid even trying to shove Jack. He’d done it before. Jack hadn’t moved. He’d leaned into the blow, desperate for any sort of touch from the green-eyed man, and Sam had ‘talked’ with Dean later. Talked didn’t mean the same volume with Dean as it did with Jack.

“Space,” he grumbled.

Humming over his food choices, Jack backed off, letting only their knees brush beneath the table. Each slide sent Jack’s heart racing. His grace fluttered, and Jack had to hold himself still to keep from endangering the humans in the restaurant.

When the waiter came, he ordered exactly what Dean did, but he didn’t hesitate to add a slice of apple pie. Dean denies himself needlessly as if to remind himself the rarity of luxury.

The burgers passed with bits of quick conservation. Nothing personal. Everything about the hunt. Sam and Dean didn’t get personal around Jack unless absolutely necessary, and then it was only Sam.

“Scoot, kid. Somebody’s gotta pay,” Dean commanded, but Jack blinked back being purposefully obtuse.

“I got it,” Sam said, standing and leaving the two behind.

All three knew they could’ve just left cash at the table, and Dean just wanted a Sam-acceptable excuse to get away from Jack. Instead, he’s stuck, and Jack thanked Castiel for Sam yet again.

“What is sex like?”

Dean’s face remained expressionless, but his eyes did gymnastics. “That’s a Sam question.”

Everything besides hunting seemed to be Sam’s territory. Jack ran his hands down his thighs, letting his pinky brush against Dean’s thigh.

“You’ve had more.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Sam’s waiting.”

“Sam suggested I pursue basic human experiences. I went to the movies, ate burgers and pizzas, and read all the suggested material. I believe it is time to move on to interpersonal basics,” Jack proclaimed. When Dean sighed in impatience, the Nephilim continued. “Hand holding. Kissing. Intercourse.”

“You’re not even a year old. No sex for you,” Dean commanded.

Jack’s brows furrowed. “I’m capable of consenting.”

“Is anyone capable of consenting to sex with a Nephilim?” Dean retorted then rolled his eyes as if cursing his mouth for getting ahead of his mind. “Damn it, that’s why it’s a Sam question.”

Jack remained silent. If he waited just a bit, Dean might answer. Or physically move Jack. Both were acceptable. When Dean looked over his head toward Sam instead, the Nephilim pressed closer. The hunter backed against the wall, preparing an argument.

“I believe I am not heterosexual,” he confessed. Dean’s lips pressed tightly together. “The books were helpful, but there were some theological texts which suggested anything non-heteronormative was evil. I don’t want to be evil, Dean. If I want to have sex with a man, does that make me evil?”

Clearing his throat, Dean shook his head. “No. You’re fine.”

“Have you ever had sex with a man?” Jack asked.

In a single smooth move, Dean lifted one foot onto the booth between them and hurdled over the back to the empty booth behind them. The table jumped, and Jack had to catch the remainder of Dean’s coffee from falling off, but it was an otherwise graceful effort. Without looking back, Dean headed over to meet his brother, walking away from Jack again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No promises. Just one-shots heading in the same direction.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t working. The knife went in well enough, but when Jack removed the blade, the wound healed before it could even bleed much. All he managed to do was mess up the shirt Sam got him.

“Okay, what the Hell?” Dean growled, storming in from behind him. “Give me that!” The hunter took the knife away. “You – don’t be an idiot. A – this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B…what the hell?”

“Exactly! What the Hell am I?” Jack turned his back on the hunter. Feeling the sentiment was one thing. Hearing Dean repeat it? Jack’s shoulders slumped. Dean would never see him as trustworthy. Strength wasn’t admirable when dangerous. “I can’t control…whatever this is.” Turning back, he whispered, “I will hurt someone.”

His eyes flick up to Dean’s, but the hunter walked away. He was always walking away. Head bowed, Jack clenched his jaw to keep from begging him to turn around; his hands curled into fists to keep from reaching out. When Dean stopped and glanced back, Jack’s heart raced.

“You know my brother thinks you can be saved.” A softness filled Dean’s eyes. The first time anything but grief or anger had met Jack’s own. The Nephilim wanted to hold onto that forever. But pity wasn’t what he wanted from Dean.

With a frown, Jack replied, “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t,” Dean agreed.

“So…” A scream burrowed into Jack’s chest, but he held it down. "If you’re right…”

“If I’m right, and it comes to killing you, I’ll be the one to do it.”

The promise hung between them. Though Dean offered the words as a promise of mercy, Jack could only hear the words Dean spat earlier echoing in his ears: “He’s not Cas.” His mother had loved him. Castiel had loved him. Dean would never love him. Not the way he loved Cas. A promise of mercy wasn’t enough.

Sitting on his bed, Jack crossed his legs beneath him. Sam believed in him. Castiel believed in him. His mother had believed in him. Dean just didn't like him _yet_. He'd tried to be more like Dean but was told not to mimic the hunter. Maybe Dean wanted him to be himself. But himself seemed too Castiel. Dean loved Castiel. Maybe with time, Dean could see how much he idolized Castiel. Dean didn’t have to ‘come around.’ As long as Dean didn’t hate him.

He shook his head unable to lie to himself. Tolerance wouldn’t be enough. Jack wanted Dean to love him. If killing him would make Dean safe, he’d do his best to die if Dean decided it was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat out of timeline with the other two, but just a pretty powerful scene from the show in my opinion.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack stole into the kitchen, grabbing the knife from the block. Weaving through the corridors, he stopped at Dean's door, resting his hand on the knob. Dean liked knocking. Personal space meant knocking. Sam gave him The List. Respecting personal space, not mentioning Castiel or asking questions about sex, God, Amara, Mary Winchester, or John Winchester - things that were important to Dean. A list to help Jack. Sam always helped where he could.  Raising his hand, Jack knocked. 

 

The door jerked opened two inches. Narrowing his eyes, Dean glanced from the knife to Jack. "You gonna use that thing?"

 

"No. I wasn't effective; however, I believe you would be." Jack held out the handle. His brows furrowed. "Scarring should work as well as a tattoo." Pulling the folded design from his pocket along with a sharpie, the Nephilim held both out.

 

"Go ask Sam," Dean retorted, stepping back to shut the door.

 

Placing his foot in the door, Jack flinched but held his powers back when Dean slammed it into his foot. "See? I am maturely accepting pain is a natural fact of life."

 

"Great. Go ask Sam."

 

"I don't think it will stay if Sam does it. I think I could keep it from healing if you did it," Jack informed the hunter, holding out the sketch and the knife. "Please?"

 

Dean opened the door and stepped aside, letting Jack in. Smiling, Jack turned to face the hunter and could only sigh when Dean walked away. 

* * *

 

If the mark was going to stay, Dean had to do it. Every time Jack thought of Dean marking him, Jack's heart raced. His cock swelled, and he transported back into his room with one of Dean's shirts in his hand. He'd done so much laundry in the last week. A knife would be unpleasant. Perhaps Dean understood that. After working through the night, Jack carried his creations into the kitchen where Sam and Dean ate breakfast.

 

"Here," he said, holding out the iron brands to Dean.

 

Dean blanched. "What the hell?"

 

"Brands? Sigil brands?" Sam's eyes narrowed. "Dean..."

 

"Not my idea!" Dean exclaimed, shoving back from the table.

 

"It was mine. I believe if Dean marks me, I will be able to prevent them from healing," Jack explained. 

 

Sam's eyes flicked from Jack to Dean as his mouth hung open. Dean groaned, setting his fork beside his plate. With a breath, he paused and forced the frustration out of his face. The emotion boiled beneath the surface, so any mask he wore was more for Sam than the Nephilim. Dean focused on Jack.

  
"I'm not branding you."

 

"It would be quicker than the knife," Jack argued.

 

Sam's brows furrowed. "Knife?"

 

Dean held up a hand, stopping Sam from asking more. "Branding hurts more than knives if you want it not to heal."

 

"Oh!" Jack smiled. Sam and Dean cocked their eyebrows in unison, causing Jack to force himself to frown. "That's bad."

 

  
"Yeah it's bad," Dean grumbled, storming out of the kitchen.

 

Jack watched him leave. His fingers brushing up and down the stem of the brands. Reaching out, Sam took them and set the irons on the table. The hunter gestured toward the seat Dean had vacated. Sitting down in the warmth Dean had left behind, Jack willed himself to remain calm. 

 

"Accepting pain is a sign of maturity. Choosing to do something that is painful rather than adjust your response to something - like tattooing - which can get the same results with less pain is not a good thing," Sam spoke slowly. He gestured along as if to guide Jack through the lesson. 

 

Looking down at Dean's abandoned plate, Jack sighed. Dean couldn't tattoo. When they first took him to the artist, he'd asked. Neither brother had the skill. As long as someone else tried to mark him, Jack knew the marks wouldn't stick. He'd tried to keep them before. But they were ugly, and they hurt. Knowing they matched Dean didn't help. He wanted Dean's mark on him. If he bore Dean's mark, then it'd be like Dean's hand print on Castiel. They'd automatically have a more profound bond. Profound bonds with marks led to emotional dependency. Which built into love if cared for correctly. Love meant hand holding, kisses, sex. Sex meant Dean clinging to him. 

  
"It needs to be Dean," Jack informed Sam. His voice rumbled, low in his chest. 

 

Sam blinked. "Why?"

 

"I-I need it to be Dean."

 

Frowning contorted Sam's face around his nose. "Dean doesn't want to hurt you, and pushing him to hurt you won't make him like you more."

 

"I don't want him to hurt me." Jack scratched at the bed of his nails. 

 

"And Dean doesn't want to hurt you. So...I'll take these," Sam said, and he left Jack behind too.

* * *

 

 

"God damn it, Cas!" Dean cried when Jack appeared behind him.

 

When he realized Jack was not Castiel, he swore even more vehemently. Jack held out the black sharpie. Rolling his eyes, Dean groaned. 

 

"Please," Jack requested. 

 

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Dean sighed. "Why?"

 

"You can make it stay," he insisted. 

 

"I'm a hunter, not a miracle worker."

 

Jack shuffled his feet. Sitting down beside Dean offered a number of confusing thoughts. Pushing them aside, he sat down beside the hunter. The elder Winchester winced as if the closeness caused him physical, but he didn't back away. Accepting pain was a sign of maturity. Dean accepted Jack's presence even when it caused him pain. Reaching over to hover his hand over Dean's, the Nephilim pressed his lips into a thin line.

 

"Can I...?" Jack asked.

 

He didn't wait, knowing Dean would say no. Taking Dean's hand, he pressed it over the right side of his chest. Beneath his shirt, Sam's sketch laid. The warmth of Dean's hand bled through the cotton fibers of his shirt. Whenever his eyes flashed, Dean blanched, so Jack prepared and tightened his grip. When the power came, it poured like fire through him, but with Dean's hand in his - albeit unwillingly - the heat didn't feel as unbearable. Each line burned into his skin, but unlike last time, the sigils felt right. When the last dark line etched into his skin, Jack kept his hand tightly over Dean's as the glow faded from his eyes.

 

"What the hell?" Dean yelled, but he'd ceased fighting futilely against the Nephilim's hold.

  
Green eyes jumped from his hand to Jack's blue. Emotions buzzed through the air. Fear, self-righteousness, panic, disappointment - Dean didn't want to be right. Lifting Dean's hand from his chest, Jack peeled back his shirt to reveal the marks beneath.

 

"I knew it would stay for you," he informed the hunter. The black glimmered against his skin but stayed resolutely in place. "I had to trace them, so they wouldn't be reversed. Do they look right?"

 

"They're fine. You mind?" Dean growled, gesturing at his captured hand.

 

Dean tugged at his hand, and Jack let go. All the warmth faded as if the light went out in the world. This wasn't a connection. One-sided and hollow, nothing close to the profoundness of Castiel's claim on Dean. The burning red hand print blazed in Jack's recollection of Castiel's memories. These sigils would remain - a mark from Dean to Jack, but he needed to return the bond, or it wouldn't be complete.

 

Dean wouldn't like this. 

 

"I'm sorry, Dean," Jack whispered.

 

Dean brushed his hand against his thigh as if to wipe off a contaminate passed through their touch. "Warn a guy next time."

 

"Would you have helped with this way?"

 

"Sure."

 

Jack nodded, considering Dean's eyes. They were such a particular shade of green. Castiel must've gotten lost in them every day. Counting the freckles on the hunter's face absorbed Jack's concentration, and without much thought at all, he released a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

 

"I'm going to touch you," he warned.

 

Dean's brow furrowed. "What - ?" 

 

His question broke off into a silent cry of pain as Jack's eyes glowed once more. One hand reached to cover Dean's eyes while the other wrapped around Dean's bicep. Neither God nor his angels would wipe this mark clean. Erupting from his flesh, grace consumed Jack, burning his hand into Dean's flesh. He would never raise Dean from perdition, but he could grip him tight. As if called by his grace, Dean's soul flared. A blinding flood of color swirled, enveloping the room. Grace and Soul ignited, and Jack knew it to be good. 

 

Reluctantly, Jack drew his grace back under control. Dean fell backward. His limp head falling neatly in the center of his pillow. In all likelihood, the hunter wouldn't even remember what had passed between them. Just as he had forgotten the profoundness of his bond with Castiel, but the truth lingered in his soul. A mark for all to see that Dean and Jack were inseparable. To attack one was to attack the other. All the monsters of Purgatory and Hell would recognize and stay their hands. 

 

Dean wouldn't like it. He wouldn't understand the mark or its meaning. Perhaps Jack would hold off on explaining more than the new sigils on his chest. Not that he would lie. Lies were bad. He'd just avoid the topic when possible. Leaning down, Jack pressed his lips against Dean's forehead. His head pounded beneath his ribs, but the first kiss between their lips wouldn't be while Dean slept. 

 

In a voice softer than a whisper, Jack proclaimed to the world, "Dean Winchester is saved."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah - little shit's kinky.


	5. Chapter 5

Not a word about the mark. Only concern from Sam about the sigils. Dean had nothing but distance in his eyes. Every time Jack opened his mouth, Dean walked away. Guilt and longing weighed him down, and as he sat in the hall, he couldn't fall any further or hurt any more. There was no profound bond between him and Dean. Jack doubted there ever would be. Grinding his teeth, he pressed down - pushing back against the voices. He was good. He didn't need Dean to be good. 

 

"What about Cas!?" Dean's words rang around his ears even as the raging rant continued. 

 

All of Dean's hatred - all his anger stemmed from heartbreak. As much as Jack longed to fill that void in Dean, he couldn't. If Castiel remained dead, Jack remained the monster who killed him. 

 

"Castiel?" Jack whispered.

 

The fire came. Fear and panic followed without Dean to tether his emotions. Darkness flooded inside him, and somewhere in the emptiness, Castiel existed. He could hear him wake. Somewhere in the vast - people came back. He'd read stories about them. God - his own grandfather - brought men back. But the emptiness grew too deep, and without Dean, he didn't have a rope to stay centered. 

 

Jack frowned. It all came back to Dean. Dean wouldn't love him if Castiel died because of him, but he couldn't finish bringing Castiel back without Dean. Pressing his hands against his head, the Nephilim held back a sob. Even if he did bring Castiel back, there was no telling if Dean would forgive his original involvement. 

 

Would Castiel still be on his side? Sam and Castiel together could convince Dean perhaps, but all Dean's grief...the hunter had to realize what it meant. Dean and Castiel would re-entangle, and this time, Dean would be less likely to deny his true feelings. They'd be in love. Happy and beautiful and good and in love...

 

Blinking back tears, Jack curled his legs to his chest. Before he could even consider what he wanted, he found himself curled in his bed. He didn't want to deal with that. The idea tormented him. Castiel kissing Dean, holding Dean's hand, telling the hunter how good and strong and brave he was. 

 

Any further alteration to Dean would cross an already dangerously tread line. Castiel deserved better too. He couldn't bring Castiel back altered. Removing any memory of his love for Dean would hurt the hunter. It wouldn't be fair. They loved each other. 

 

Jack pulled the covers over him, staring at the wall. Maybe Castiel would understand. Maybe he'd stepped aside, let Jack have Dean, or maybe Dean would realize...none of that would happen. He'd be good. He'd bring back Castiel. He'd lose Dean. 

 

Closing his eyes, Jack sobbed. The bed beneath him shifted, and a warm body curled up behind him then shoved back with a curse.

 

"What the hell?" Dean hissed, falling off the bed. 

 

Jack sat up. "You say that a lot."

 

"Why are you in my bed?" 

 

"I don't..." Jack stopped himself from lying. "I didn't mean to."

 

Rubbing his hand over his face, Dean grumbled, "Of course not."

 

"I can bring Castiel back. I-I want to try for you, but..." Jack studied Dean's face. No hope. No trust. Not even a glimmer that Dean thought he could do anything. "I can do it, Dean. Please, help me." Jack reached out his hand.

 

Dean clenched his jaw. "Cas is dead. Just - go."

 

"I can do it. I can do it for you. I could do anything for you," Jack confessed. 

 

As Dean's eyes narrowed, his frown shifted into a thin line, but this wasn't the exasperation or grief he'd seen before. Brows raised toward the middle - this was a face Sam had often directed at him. Dean was concerned. Jack's heart raced. 

 

"If I bring Castiel back, would you...do you think I could be good then?" Jack asked, and when Dean stood, preparing to walk away again, the nephilim leapt to his feet. "I can be good, please!"

 

"Don't," Dean said.

 

The word burned through Jack's bones.

 

"Please," he pleaded.

 

Rubbing his eyes, Dean sighed. "It's late. I'm tired. Just get out."

 

"Please, I can't save him without you. There's this darkness. Emptiness - I can't...please," Jack begged, holding out his hand again. "I know you think I made empty promises, but I didn't tell Castiel I'd be able to do anything. He saw something in me - something my mother saw, something Sam sees, but I don't think I can see it if you don't. Please, just trust me. Just once. In anything. It doesn't have to be bringing Castiel back. It could be something small. Anything, please, I just...I don't think I can do this without you."

 

Dean stared back at Jack. The concern faded as the Nephilim ranted until an unfamiliar emotion contorted his features. It felt like pity, but that couldn't be right. Guilt, grief, or anger always underlined Dean's emotions, so that couldn't be right. 

 

"Jack..."

 

"I didn't mean to come here like this. I just...things make sense with you. Even when they're horrible, they make sense. If I bring Castiel back, you and him will..." Jack couldn't bear to say it. 

 

Dean stared back, pale and wide-eyed. Before the hunter even moved, Jack knew what was coming. Without a word, Dean turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to a Dean/Cas reunion in the show. Might draw from scenes, but from here on, clearly diverging.


	6. Chapter 6

The week began with Sam and Dean arguing. Some times, they acted as if Jack couldn't hear them. 

 

"At worst, it's a pair of wendigos!" Dean informed his younger brother.

 

Sam crossed his arms. "You can't go off and hunt alone!"

 

Dean wouldn't take it well. Just like the last hunt, he would reel against Sam reining him in. Like always, Sam would subtly suggest that Jack needed him, and if he didn't make it clear enough, Dean would be outright and exclaim he didn't trust Jack in the bunker. Eventually, Jack would stay with Sam in the bunker, or they all would go hunting. If they all went hunting, Dean would avoid him to a higher extreme. Jack could at least seclude himself at the bunker. In a motel, Dean just wasn't there. 

 

The week ended with Castiel back and Jack hiding in his room. Moans echoed in his mind even though they didn't leave the thick walls of Dean's room. Hands pressing against the sharp angles and hard, muscled curves of Dean Winchester. Chapped lips kissed the pink cupid's bow of Dean's mouth. Warmth flushed across Jack's skin. Chucking off his shirt and pants, Jack burrowed beneath the covers, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep. Though he couldn't be certain how Castiel and Dean were reconnecting, his mind filled with images he couldn't ignore. Emotions rushed him like a tsunami, leaving him gasping - grasping for safe haven. 

 

_Castiel’s hands slid down Dean’s sides, pulling the hunter to straddle his lap. He grasped Dean’s firm ass. Strong hands gently tugged through Jack’s hair._

 

Jack gasped. His hand slid into his brown hair seemingly of its own accord. Lust, love, and relief ebbed throughout the bunker, but his mind refused to wallow in envy. Castiel and Dean…an inevitability which left an ache in Jack’s soul. Beneath his skin, grace flared and a different image painted across his imagination.

 

_Jack pressed his lips to Dean’s neck, feeling the rush of Dean’s rising pulse. Kneading the firm muscles he admired every time Dean walked away, the Nephilim pulled Dean in tighter, thrusting their groans together._

 

_“Tell me what you need,” Jack whispered._

 

_Dean whimpered, tilting back his head as he pressed further into Jack’s touch. Dark eyelashes fluttered against freckled cheeks, and a gasp escaped when Jack bit into the muscle of the hunter’s shoulder. Diving down, Dean took Jack’s mouth in a hard kiss. Tongues joined, and somehow, Jack kept up, giving as good as he got._

 

 _The world burned around them. Fire rose from within them. In a smooth move, Jack lifted Dean and rolled them to press the hunter’s back against the mattress. Hips pressed_ _up into his own pelvis as they shifted, setting off a chorus of moans before their lips reconnected. Dean’s hand slid to cradle the back of his head, pulling Jack back just enough for green eyes to meet blue. Those hands dropped away, and in a smooth undulation, Dean threw his shirt off to the side._

 

_Fingers tugged off a tie before making quick work of buttons, leaving their chests bare and pressed against one another. Each nerve blazed to life. Any gap between their skin ached. Jack’s hand slid up to the brand of his hand print. Ecstasy crashed against panic before Dean brought their lips back together._

 

_Pants vanished into the ether. Belts and socks and such faded like wrapping paper leaving only the gift of Dean’s bare flesh before him. Both of them are rock hard. Absence ached like a void between them. An unsaid desperation realized only in the red flush over Dean’s face and chest. He practically glowed. Panting, sweaty, perfect – Jack bent down to run his tongue against Dean’s chest. Fingers slid over skin to brush against Dean’s nipples._

 

 _“_ _What do you need?” the Nephiliim asked, begging for Dean to admit what he couldn’t say to Castiel. Dean moaned. His lips twisted into a word Jack couldn’t hear. “Tell me.”_

 

_“You,” Dean gasped. “Please…” that word slipped out again. “Need you.”_

 

_The octave of Jack’s voice dropped, deep and rough like Castiel’s. “You always have me.”_

 

_And he had to be everywhere. Attacking Dean’s neck, he bit – licked, leaving marks wherever he could reach. Every time his fingers slipped over Jack’s mark, a spark of weariness jumped in the back of his mind._

 

 _Dean moaned, giving over all control to Jack. Running his hands down Dean’s hips, Jack pressed kisses against Dean’s hot skin. He wrapped his hand around the hunter’s_ _aching cock, smearing pre-come over the tip. Instinct ruled the day. His warm breath ghosted across Dean’s cock before Jack licked from his balls to the tip. One hand slid up, teasing across Dean’s stomach as the other trailed down pressing against Dean’s perineum._

 

_Dean whimpered. The hard angles of his jaw sharpened as the muscles clenched. A flash of his eyes brought lube to his hand. When Dean lifted his hips, Jack poured lube over his fingers, pushing his index finger into Dean as he toyed with Dean’s cock with his mouth._

 

_“Fuck,” Dean moaned. “Shit – ” a line of words that jumped and jumbled around Jack’s ears. Pumping his finger in and out, stretching Dean slowly, Jack frowned trying to make out the words by reading the hunter’s lips. “Missed you.”_

 

_Impossible. Dean would never need to miss him because he’d never leave the hunter. Adding a second finger then a third, Jack bit back all the words he wanted to say. He swallowed every confession of love. Dean wouldn’t want that._

 

Jack furrowed his brow. He wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue. Though he doubted he’d be able to breathe for the effort of not coming, any words he would say would be confessions of his love. Dean deserved that. If such admiration made the hunter uncomfortable, all the more reason to whisper those words against his skin.

 

_“I’ve got you,” Jack whispered instead. Removing his fingers, he pressed into Dean, stretching him wide. “I’m with you.”_

 

_“Don’t leave me again,” Dean pleaded. Throwing his head back as Jack pushed in to the hilt, Dean gasped._

 

_Dean’s arms wrapped around his back, clawing at his shoulders with blunt nails. Every nerve in Jack’s body sang. This was too perfect. Every piece of him – grace to soul – focused on their bodies coming together. Curling around Dean, Jack smashed their lips together in a rough kiss – more teeth than tongue. One hand gripped Dean’s hip while the other rose to press against the hand print on Dean’s upper arm._

 

 _Hello blended with goodbye,_ and Jack came beneath his sheets gasping a name that tasted like Heaven. A name he’d never whisper into the curl of someone’s ear the way Castiel got to – every night would be torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward talk between Castiel (a.k.a. self-sacrificing dad) and Jack (a.k.a. self-sacrificing son) next time. 
> 
> I've got the next 2-3 planned (Dean gets in on the awkward in #2), but if you all have some favorite romantic scenes / things (proposal from Pride & Prejudice, "As you wish" from Princess Bride, etc.), please comment. Jack's looking for wooing inspiration in #3, and Sam raised him right so far - he's looking to books (and movies)!


	7. Chapter 7

Headphones on, Jack halfheartedly attempted to drown out the world. While he had hoped for a single round between them, Dean and Castiel spent the night together. Though the internet had fully informed Jack on voyeurism, he'd gone down the halls earlier in the morning. Castiel's grace surrounded Dean's door, but slipping it open a crack hadn't been difficult. The two had laid curled together. Legs and arms entangled like some two backed, eight-limbed monster. Dean had slept through the intrusion, content in the angel's arms, but Castiel had woken. His blue eyes glowed with a bright shield of grace. When Jack's grace rose in response, he quickly tamped it down and fled. 

 

By noon, Sam remained in the study, seeking an alternative way to open the portal to save his mother. On the other side of the bunker, Dean cleaned and prepped their hunting gear. Nobody mentioned a hunt, so Jack kept himself still.  _Rogue One_ played across the screen. Each scene hurt worse than the last. Both Sam and Dean insisted he watch Star Wars in the correct order - which skipped the first three films entirely, so he was aware of how the movie would end. Why did people enjoy causing themselves pain?

 

Castiel's grace warmed the room before he came around the corner. Knocking on the door, he opened it when Jack didn't respond. The familiar trench coat and suit were gone. Instead, Castiel wore one of Dean's flannels and a pair of jeans. Castiel furrowed his dark brows, and Jack mirrored before forcing his face to relax. If he was Castiel's mirror, the loss of Dean would only be more acute. Pressing his lips together, Jack slid back one hear of his headphones.

 

"Good afternoon, Castiel," Jack greeted. 

 

Castiel nodded. "Good afternoon, Jack. Can we talk?"

 

Clicking the key to pause the movie, Jack swallowed. "Yes. Please - sit."

 

He scooted back, making way for Castiel to sit on the bed. Instead, the angel remained standing. "You marked Dean."

 

Pulse soaring, Jack removed his headphones completely. "Yes."

 

The air tightened - hot and cold at the same time. Castiel could expose him. Dean would hate him. Any progress gained would disappear. He'd only just told Jack that he'd done a good job. Good job, Jack - then off to have sex with Castiel. Chin quivering, Jack inhaled slowly.

 

"I won't approach him again." 

 

Jack tensed. His heart thundered against his ribs. "What?"

 

Castiel pressed his lips together. He sat beside Jack, resting his hands on his thighs. "Dean and I have a profound bond. However, we only act on the result of that bond when one or both of us has died or nearly died."

 

"That was before," Jack assured him. "Dean wants to be with you. He mourned you. Endlessly."

 

"Perhaps."

 

Castiel glanced at the door. His eyes trained in on Dean through the walls and mess between them, but his eyes dropped, squinting at the floor as if even looking at Dean pained him. This wasn't right. Dean loved Castiel. Dean wanted to be with Castiel. Castiel had to want that too. Every memory ached with yearning. They'd just had sex - repeatedly! 

 

"I don't understand," Jack whispered.

 

"Dean puts the world first. He avoids making friends because any he does make become family. He avoids even the possibility of a long-term romantic relationship. He's attempted in the past, but I believe he has concluded losing a lover is more painful than keeping a potential lover at arm's length," Castiel explained. "If Dean and I were to become a couple, he believes either of us dying would be worse for it. Any mourning Dean felt for me will only reinforce that." The angel sighed. His bright blue eyes met Jack's. "And he's right."

  
"No!" Jack exclaimed, untangling himself from his laptop to jump from the bed. 

 

"What Dean and I did...our reunion was passionate, but any admittance of our bond on Dean's end will be fleeting. Though I understand your desire to mark him, to have some sort of profound bond with Dean...it won't be what you imagined. He believes there is good in you. He will protect you. Anything more than that...Dean's no longer capable of." Castiel's eyes scanned across Jack's face as if he could read his emotions as easily as Jack read everyone else's, and perhaps that was true. 

 

Perhaps the flare in Jack's grace spelled out his frustration and unease with Castiel's explanation. Maybe Jack's disbelief spiked with his pulse. Though he respected Castiel immensely, a distance grew between them. When Castiel died, Sam became his father. Even reborn, the paternal love came forth more from Sam. Castiel cared, and Jack still thought of him fondly, but the rage of a rival curled in his chest. If Dean were his, he'd never give up so easily. He'd never throw in the towel and proclaim he'd tried too many times to try again. 

 

"I do not agree," Jack informed Castiel. "But I will try to understand."

 

Nodding, Castiel stood. "I simply wished to assure you the mark was not responsible for our lack of relationship."

 

"Dean doesn't know it was me," Jack confessed.

 

Castiel's brow furrowed. He tilted his head. "Yes. He does."

 

Jack's heart skipped a beat. Eyes widening, he turned toward the door. Nobody stood there. The empty hall loomed outside, and his grace panicked. Dean knew. When the hunter hadn't said anything, guilt and relief haunted Jack. Why wouldn't Dean confront him? Walking aimlessly, Jack flexed and relaxed his fingers. If Dean remained silent, did he believe they had a bond too? What did the hand print mean to Dean? Why would the hunter not tell Sam? Surely Sam would think scarring someone like that was wrong. Sam would give up on him. If Dean hated him before Castiel's return, why had he remained silent?

 

Caught in his thoughts, Jack stumbled into Dean's back. The hunter tensed, and the Nephilim quickly backed away. "I'm sorry!"

 

"Whoa!" Dean called, keeping Jack from fleeing. "You okay?"

 

"Fine."

 

Dean frowned. His green eyes shimmered as the inner corners of his brow rose. "Good. Then you have time to talk."

 

"Dean...I..."

 

"Thank you."

  
Jack blinked. Eyes narrowing, he studied Dean's face. "Excuse me?"

 

"You brought Cas back for me. I know I've been hard on you - too hard frankly. I took out everything on you - Castiel's death especially, and that wasn't fair." Dean tucked his thumbs in his pockets. Jack eyes dropped to the hunter's crotch. Flushing, he looked away and nearly jumped when Dean laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

 

"I-I want to make you happy."

 

"Yeah, well, good job. I thought I'd lost my chance with Cas, and now," Dean gestured out at the bunker. "You gave me a chance to get out of my own way and be with the man I love." His lips quirked into a smirk. "Angel." Castiel was wrong. Of course, Dean confessed. He loved Castiel. He would do anything for the angel. He mourned him in the multitude of colors within his soul. How could Castiel have doubted Dean would remain stoic in the face of true love? Dean smiled. Bright and beautiful and perfect. "Gonna tell Sam. See where things go with Cas."

 

"I love you."

 

Dean blanched. "What?"

 

"I love you," Jack repeated. The words lifted a weight off of him he hadn't fully realized was there. "I know Winchester's suffer in silence and accepting pain is a sign of maturity, but I don't want to wait until you come back from the dead to tell you. I love you. You're smart and brave and honest and so blunt it hurts. You fight for everyone else, and even when you hated me, you protected me. You care so much. I love you. I will always love you, and I'm not going to just silently endure. Confess to Sam. Tell Castiel everything. Or don't. I'll still love you. I will protect you."

 

"Jack..." a frown marred Dean's features. The Nephilim's name became a warning, but Jack wasn't going to listen this time.

 

"I hate watching you walk away. I hate pretending I don't have these feelings," Jack reached out, pressing his hand against his mark. "You know I marked you." Dean's eyes darted away as Jack caught him in his unspoken lie. "I want to be with you. I love you, and marking you without your consent was wrong. Why didn't you tell me you knew?" Jack stepped closer. "Do you feel it to? I feel as if we were made to be together. Every edge of you fits perfectly with me. You make sense when nothing else does. Maybe you feel that way about Castiel. It won't change how I feel. I won't pretend. I'm not a Winchester anyway. I'm a Kline." Stepping back, Jack pulled his hand away with a sigh. "I won't force you to be with me. I won't kiss you unless you ask it of me, but I won't pretend to not love you. Because I do." 

 

Before Dean could, Jack turned and walked away. 


	8. Chapter 8

As he walked to dinner, Jack turned over the black object in his hand. It seemed...large. There were two others, but he'd seen enough of Dean to doubt the smaller one would be appropriate. Sitting down at the table beside Sam and opposite Castiel, he sighed.

 

Sam glanced up then back to his food then froze. "Jack? Is that...?"

 

"A butt plug," Jack stated, holding it out to Sam who leaned back. "I thought exploring whether I enjoyed penetration would be an important step to determining how to proceed. Dean switches regularly, so -" before he could finish, Dean shoved himself away from the table.

 

"Jack. Talk. Now!" Dean grumbled, walking away.

 

He expected to be followed, and with a smile at Castiel and Sam, Jack did so. While Sam appeared to be confused and mildly concerned, the angel remained focus on his plate. Not that he had to eat. Dean led the Nephilim to a back room. A long table split the center with chairs lining it - some sort of meeting area. Once Jack stepped inside, Dean closed the door, and Jack's pulse spiked. The weight of the sex toy in his hand did nothing to calm him as his fingers pressed against the flared end.

 

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"You enjoy switching. I'm uncertain. Penetration doesn't appeal to me; however, I understanding I should try it before writing it off," Jack explained. He held up the black plug. "Do you think this is a good starting point? You see like someone who would be well-endowed."

 

Stepping back, Dean shook his head. "Jack, this," he pointed back and forth between himself and the Nephilim, "isn't happening."

 

"I see."

 

Jack set the plug on the table. A small smile tugged at his lips when he glanced back to see Dean staring at the plug. The hunter's tongue ran the length of his bottom lip. Lust surged in the air. A lifetime of self-denial and one-time flings left minimal time for longer term exploration. Trust remained a cornerstone of the relationships Dean never permitted himself to have. Even the rough sex with Castiel hadn't explored those more dangerous urges. 

 

"I've told Sam about Cas and me."

 

Jack's brow furrowed. "Then why did you call me here? If Castiel and you were together, should you have shut me down in front of him? Won't this make him suspicious of us?" When Dean refused to meet his questioning gaze, a laugh burst its way out of Jack. "You told Sam about Castiel, but you didn't tell him about my confession."

 

"Just cause I don't want you doesn't mean I want to embarrass you," Dean told him.

 

Shaking his head, Jack stepped closer to the hunter. "Why would I be embarrassed? You might want Castiel, but I want you. Wanting you isn't embarrassing. Not having you isn't embarrassing. It's difficult. It hurts, but it isn't embarrassing." He studied the hunter, and picking up the plug, Jack held it out to Dean. "Do you want it?"

 

"Hell, no!" Dean held out his hands in front of him as if to push the other further away, but Jack remained where he was.

 

Jack bowed his head. A smile crept onto his face. "You do. We have a profound bond now, don't we?"

 

"What the hell are you on about?" Dean spat. Then, as if catching himself, he took a deep breath. "I don't. We don't. Just let it go, Jack."

 

"I won't. You're lying. Bringing back Castiel, that means more to you than him raising you out of perdition!" Jack grinned, reaching out to grab the hem of Dean's shirt. The well-worn flannel was soft as his thumb worried the edge. "I want you to be happy. Castiel's back because of me. We have a profound bond now, Dean. I did it!" Dean frowned, but before he could argue, Jack pressed further into his space, backing the hunter into the far wall. Dean no longer wanted to hurt him, so he gave way more easily than he otherwise might have. "You love Castiel because he never stopped loving you - even the parts of you which you saw as worthless, and now you know I love those parts too. You've shown them to me - more than you ever did to Castiel. He saw you torture humans in Hell, but I was one of those humans."

 

"I never tortured you," Dean whispered.

 

Jack frowned; his brow furrowed. "But you did, Dean. Every time you ignored me, promised to kill me, told me I was evil...every time you walked away because I could never be good enough."

 

Green eyes fell to the floor, and the muscles in Dean's jaw tensed as he fought for something, anything to say. Grief poured off of him. "I'm sorry."

 

"I accept your apology. I'd never betray you, you know. That void between you and Castiel - all the betrayal, all the hurt from one of you two walking away. It's too big, and no matter how far you reach if he's not reaching back, you'll never make it," Jack said, and Dean frowned. "You expected his betrayal, didn't you? That wasn't what hurt. It was his leaving. He picked Heaven over you at least twice - left for me too. Did you hate me for that? That he picked me over you? Because he's doing it again. You told Sam, and Castiel's stayed away."

 

"He didn't...I've got a lot to make up for too," Dean defended. 

 

Jack shook his head. "He told me this time would be like every other. Said you two only have sex when one of you dies or almost dies. I told him he was wrong, but he knew about the mark, knew I loved you. I think he might have given you up for me. So - he picked me over you twice too."

 

"That's not picking you," the hunter retorted.

 

His green eyes pierced into Jack's blue. Faith came hard to Dean, and in his gaze, the Nephilim could see the struggle. Castiel held more of Dean's belief than anyone or anything, but they hung on by taut strings which snapped with the building tension between them. Jack tilted his face, and though his whole body yearned to press forward and steal a kiss, he held himself in place; instead, he slipped the toy in Dean's pocket.

 

"I will always pick you."

 

"Smooth, kid, but this isn't happening," Dean stated, removing the plug and setting it back on the table.

 

"Castiel knows I love you," Jack reminded him. "Didn't he tell you?"

 

"I didn't exactly tell him either, now did I?"

 

Stepping to the side, Dean moved to leave the room. Jack let him, but as Dean passed, he pressed their hands together. When Dean glanced back, he flashed his eyes. Time stood still, and the whole of his grace expanded behind him as Dean's soul swelled. Light and a prism illuminated the room in colors. Warm spread throughout Jack's body. They were meant to be together. Every time Sam asked him to use his powers - he'd failed, but any time Dean needed, Jack couldn't tell where he began and ended. The whole world stretched with endless possibilities. 

 

"Push me away. I'll keep coming back. Walk away, and I'm going to follow." 

 

Dean's eyes narrowed. "That a threat?" 

 

"No," Jack promised. "You can rely on me, Dean."

 

Dean sighed. "I know."

 

Lips curving into a smile, Jack released Dean's hand. He opened the door, and when Dean walked away, Jack followed. 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Flowers died. Dean didn't like things that died, and beauty for beauty's sake wasn't how the hunter thought. Stocking the fridge with his favorite beer didn't get any comment. Filling the cabinets with the right snacks also went without acknowledgement. Covered in flour, Jack stared down at the plethora of pies he'd made. There were too many apples. Every person he'd asked online suggested a different type for pies. Recipes clogged up his head, but none of them seemed like Dean. 

 

"I can figure this out," Jack assured himself. 

 

Just one more pie. He could make Dean an amazing pie without buying it or making it appear with his powers. Magically appearing pies were probably stolen pies. Dean had already lectured him about that. Leaning back against the wall, the Nephilim sank down to the floor. Loving someone wasn't exhausting. Wooing someone when he had no other experience drained all the energy out of him. He wanted to go to Castiel, but the angel hadn't wooed Dean. He'd pulled him from perdition, hunted monsters, lost the fight to not free Lucifer, and then won the fight to put Lucifer back in the cage. Hunting wasn't wooing, but with a Winchester, Jack began to wonder if there was a difference. 

 

Pies were a start. Something for Jack to try before he drew from the endless number of suggested romance movies. Most of the movies he'd already watched suggested saving the person's life. That didn't seem right. Good people saved people. Dean said that. Sam agreed. Good people saved people - it wasn't romantic or sexy. It was good. 

 

As if sensing his distress, footsteps echoed down the hall, but another set intercepted them. Jack frowned, listening as Castiel greeted Sam before continuing toward the kitchen. Sam stepped forward calling, "Hey, Cas, wait a minute."

 

"Yes, Sam?"

 

Nervous. Sam was nervous. Even if he couldn't feel the wave of barely contained energy, the shuffle of Sam's feet would've informed Jack.

 

"Could you talk to Jack about the gifts?" Sam asked, and the Nephilim tensed. 

 

Castiel shifted, likely to face the hunter. "Gifts?"

 

"Oh, come on. The pile of flannels he left on Dean's bed? The pies? That literal field of flowers that popped up outside the bunker?" Sam counted each of Jack's failed prior attempts. "I don't have to check his laptop to know he's been watching romance movies -  _You've Got Mail...Princess Bride, The Notebook, Dirty Dancing, Sense and Sensibility, Brokeback Mountain, 10 Things I Hate About You,_ " Sam cleared his throat. "I'm kind of worried about that one."

 

"I'm not familiar with those movies."

 

"He's hitting on Dean," Sam explained. "I think Dean would appreciate it if you tell him to back off."

 

"If Dean wanted Jack to stop-," Castiel began, but Sam interrupted him.

 

"He has told him to stop, and I know he hasn't said it, but it bothers him that you're not reacting to it."

 

Jack's brows furrowed. Castiel, seeming to share his confusion, murmured, "I don't understand."

 

"Dean really put himself out there. He loves you. Wants to be with you. That's huge for him. He's loved you for years, and that fact that he finally sat down and told me that...that's him taking a risk on you. He's all in, so I'm kind of confused because before Jack, being with Dean was something you wanted too," the younger Winchester pointed out.

 

"Jack's grown fond of Dean. My being with him would only hurt Jack," Castiel said. 

 

Dread pooled in Jack's soul. If Castiel still wanted to be with Dean, their long-term reunion would only be a matter of time. Dean wouldn't let Jack stand in the way of that. Sam wouldn't be happy with it either. Plus, good people didn't stand in the way of other people's happiness. Right? Castiel would come to hate Jack. 

 

With a scoff, Sam asked, "But it's okay to hurt Dean?" 

 

"Sam," Castiel returned, but no words or excuses followed.

 

"Dean loves you. I thought you loved Dean, but you keep hurting him. I get he can be hard to deal with, but I thought you understood everything he's been through - everything he gave up to keep other people safe - us included. If you're going to choose Jack over him, Dean deserves to know. You have to tell him the truth," Sam demanded. "And if you're really taking the whole father-son thing seriously, tell him to leave Dean alone."

 

"I believed you liked Jack."

 

"I do," Sam admitted, and Jack sighed with relief. "He's a good kid, and he doesn't realize what he's doing will only hurt Dean." 

 

That wasn't right. He wasn't hurting Dean. Love didn't hurt people. Indifference hurt people. Hate hurt people. Love couldn't hurt someone. It protected people. Right? A dozen pies meant love. Warm clothing, good food, beautiful things - when useful to Dean - those mattered. They helped. Jack couldn't have hurt Dean. He loved him. 

 

Castiel remained silent. Nothing came from Castiel. Angels were so much harder to read than humans. A glimmer of colors filtered over. Something gray and cold followed by a pooling emptiness of blue. Sam, however, raged with self-righteousness and a protective, fraternal love. Another emotion brewed beneath - pity?

  
"Cas..." Sam whispered. His voice became gentler. "What if Jack succeeds? What if Dean falls for him? Could you handle that? Losing Dean to Jack?"

 

A bright flicker of grace came, and Sam cursed. Castiel had transported away - run away. When Sam made it to the kitchen, the pies, the mess, and Jack were gone. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Jack couldn't be certain where Castiel was, but Sam had just left to finalize some loose ends for the case, leaving Dean and Jack alone in the motel. Unlike before Castiel's return, the hunter didn't retreat. Rain tapped along the panes. Perhaps the only reason Dean really remained. Jack's heart trembled. He'd waited for this. Days of hunting waiting for the sky to open up because more stories than he cared to admit watching and reading placed love scenes in the rain. 

 

Adjusting his shirt, Jack frowned at the ACDC t-shirt and dark jeans. Castiel wore trench coats and ties, but that wasn't Jack. Pulling on his zipper hoodie, he transported himself outside the motel room. Luckily, this one didn't have an overhang. Warm rain poured down on Jack. It soaked through every layer, but the nephilim smiled. Knocking on the door, he waited. Each sound echoed in his mind as his heart raced beneath his ribs. If gifts weren't enough, perhaps confessions would be better. Speeches led to kisses in movies. Maybe the same would be true. The idea of being dragged into a kiss sent a flush across his skin. 

 

Dean opened the door with caution before his eyes caught on Jack. Leaning against the frame, he smirked. "Accidentally beam yourself outside, Spock?"

 

"I love you," Jack confessed. Each time he spoke the words, he meant them all the more. As pity filled Dean's eyes, Jack shook his head. "I've researched it. It's not just a feeling - it's a certainty now. I'm in love with you. You're all I can think about - first thought in the morning and last thought as I go to bed, and I never really noticed how suggestive that line was in those movies, but it stands true nonetheless. To me, you're magic. And I don't mean a witch or demon or whatever supernatural monster we'll be hunting next, I mean real magic. The kind that makes your heart beat a bit faster but in a good way."

 

"Jack...this ain't happening."

 

"I want you. I want all of you, forever - you and me, everyday," Jack quoted. "You are the only person that can make my heart beat faster and slower at the same time."

 

Sighing, Dean met Jack's gaze. "That's a problem for a doctor."

 

"You are my greatest adventure," Jack professed, and Dean blinked - unimpressed. "You should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how."

 

"You aren't even a year old," Dean retorted.

 

Jack grinned. Every quip just showed how much Dean cared. Just weeks ago, Dean would've simply walked away. Licking his lips, Jack shivered when Dean mirrored the action. "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone."

 

"Sure, Arwen, except you can actually bring people back from the dead," the hunter commented, folding his arms across his chest.

 

"As you wish." Reverse aging was the more pressing issue. He'd debated practicing on some of the elderly people who complained about aches and pains, but Dean wouldn't have approved. "My heart is and always will be yours."

 

"Come on, kid," Dean groaned.

 

"I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you." 

 

"Disney? Really?"

 

Shrugging, Jack let his small fall away. He focused on all his love for Dean and hoped the hunter could see it in his eyes. "I like you so much I don't know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I'm going to see you again."

 

Dean shook his head. "We're done, kid."

 

Catching the door, Jack smiled as rain slid down his face. "It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you."

 

A chuckle escaped the hunter's lips. "Go get in the shower before you get sick."

 

"Want to join me?" Jack asked as he stepped inside.

 

His shoes sloshed with each step. Doubting Dean would agree, he hadn't stopped his progress to the bathroom, but a hand on his shoulder held him back. Warmth spread from Dean's touch. Heart thundering, Jack gazed back the hunter. His breath caught in his throat. Green eyes met blue, and Jack thought he'd melt into a puddle of grace and blood. Pink lips parted. All Jack could do was stare. His eyes caught on the path Dean's tongue traveled and the shine left upon Dean's soft lips in its wake. 

 

"You've got to stop this," Dean whispered. 

 

Jack shifted to face Dean. "I can't. I love you, and I know stepping aside for your happiness would be best, and I would. I'd do it in a heartbeat if Castiel was there to take my place, but he's not. Whether I stop or not, he doesn't believe you two can last." Dean's hand fell away, and the hunter's jaw tensed. "I don't either, Dean. There was a chance for you two, but it's gone. Between all his betrayals and your silence, his love wasn't strong enough." Jack stepped closer. Water dripped onto the floor around him. "Mine is, and frankly, I'm not convinced all the trials between you and Castiel weren't leading to this - to you being open enough to love someone even if they weren't what you expected or what was expected of you. If you die on a hunt, I'll bring you back. If I die, I'll come back. You don't have to lie to me. I've seen you at your lowest. I know you, Dean, and deep down, I think that terrifies you because if all this build-up with Castiel led to something even more frightening than loving an angel, you won't be able to hate yourself half as much because it's not a fluke if somebody loves you twice."

 

"I've been loved before," Dean retorted. His voice deep and rough. "Castiel sure as hell wasn't first."

 

"But he was the first who saw you - hunter you, demon you, every bit of your soul good and bad. I see you, Dean." Jack reached out, clasping a hand around the side of Dean's neck like that thunder god did with the villain he loved. "I see you, and there's no one in the universe stopping us from being together."

 

Dean scoffed. "I like to think I get a vote."

 

"You do, but you haven't stopped us. You've put us on pause. That's okay. I can wait however long you need me to, and if all my confessions seem to stem from impatience, please understand that it's a desperate need to not want you to ever forget how truly loved you are." When he leaned forward, Jack expected Dean to stay where he was, but the hunter moved with him as the Nephilim pressed their foreheads together. "Never doubt that I love you."

 

"Not a romance movie. Not a couple."

 

Jack's brows furrowed. "The internet does not agree with you."

 

"Go take a shower and go to bed."

 

Pulling back, Jack smiled and walked away. 


	11. Chapter 11

"Are you watching porn!?" Sam exclaimed, going a brilliant shade of red. As if realizing he'd yelled at Jack, the hunter deflated. "Maybe you should do that in your room."

 

Pausing the video, Jack pressed his lips together, twiddling his thumbs. "I should have warned you. I'm trying to see how Dean reacts."

 

Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Sitting down beside Jack, the younger Winchester drummed his fingers on his knees. "Jack, this has gotta stop."

 

"Why?"

 

"Dean asked you to for one," Sam reminded him.

 

Jack frowned. "I love him."

 

"All the more reason for you to listen to him." Sam's eyes strayed toward the screen. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked away. 

 

"They look like us, don't they?" Jack smiled. "It took forever to find a pair that looked like us without a poorly written plot."

 

Groaning, Sam pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "This isn't helping your case."

 

Jack bowed his head. "The forum suggested creating situations which would push Dean to see me in a more romantic light."

 

"You mean a more sexual light."

 

Nodding, Jack sighed. "None of it has worked. He seems to view my confessions of love as jokes."

 

Sam's brow furrowed. "You were born earlier this year. Even if Dean forgets that, he's in love with Castiel. Just because Castiel's being a fucking idiot..." Sam stopped himself, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. "How about we work on making friends instead? I can help with that."

 

"Why do I need more friends? I have you and Jody - although I think she considers me more like a son than a friend - but her daughters liked me, so they're my friends too," Jack counted his friends out on his hand. There was almost a full hand. Smiling up at Sam, Jack placed his hand back down on his knee. "I have so many friends."

 

"I'm glad you think of Annie and Claire as friends. Claire can be a bit dark," Sam replied. 

 

Jack shrugged. "She reminds me of Dean."

 

"Right..." Sam inhaled slowly, glancing around the living room in the bunker as if Dean or Castiel would magically appear and stop his slowly derailing segue. 

 

Taking pity on the hunter, Jack closed his laptop. "I love Dean. It's...hard. I don't have anyone to talk to about it except the people I speak with online, and I can't tell them even half of the complications involved. I'm in love with my step-father's ex sounds bad enough."

 

Sam ran a hand through his hair. There were times when Sam's brain moved a mile a minute, and while Jack didn't listen in on people's thoughts, the emotions that bounced off the hunter in these moments were like a roller coaster.  Jack patiently waited.

 

"What if you and I...what if we were to work on your social skills? You can practice friendship making skills on Dean, but no more 'confessions of love,'" Sam offered. 

 

"You are going to tell him, aren't you?" 

 

Sam gave Jack a small smile. "If I'm a half-way decent teacher, he'll figure it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone finds Jack/Dean fanart, I'd love to see it - videos especially. I need a new jam to listen to that isn't Kylux (too kink-tastic) or Cherik (toothache-inducing sweetness (at least in my playlist)). Any ship-vids are welcomed.


	12. Chapter 12

When Dean returned to the bunker, Sam sat back at the long table with a beer in his hand. His younger brother's thumb played with the label as the Sasquatch stared off into space. Setting his quarry of groceries on the table, Dean scanned Sam. Nothing broken. No cuts or any sign of a scuffle. Just sad eyes and a pout.

 

"What's got you in a mood?" Dean asked, digging through the bags to toss a bag of kale at the younger's head. "I got you rabbit food and everything."

 

Sam pressed his lips together. "Jack's really obsessed with you." When Dean cocked a brow, Sam held up his hands. "I know you said that, but today, I caught him watching porn - out in the open. Porn he'd scouted for because the actors looked like you and him." 

 

Dean cringed, wrinkling his nose and squinting his eyes at Sam. "What'd you do about it?"

 

"Offered to teach him social skills. Anything to get him off the internet." Sam sat up straight. "You know those fan websites - the ones with the...the Destiel and Wincest?" Both brothers shivered and shook their heads at the memory of the latter. "He's reading them for ideas on how to win you over. Somehow, Jack imprinted on you - and not in a good way. Not in a paternal way. Like a weird paranormal dime novel romance way."

 

"So, we're back where we started. Three dudes and a baby," Dean commented before heading toward the kitchen. Sam followed with the bag of kale in one hand and the beer in another.

 

"A baby with a sex drive. Like - a deep sex drive. I tried to talk to him about consent and personal boundaries, and he replied with the basics for a healthy S&M relationship. Honestly, I'm glad he knows about consent, but what made him look that up? A few months ago, he was reading comics and watching cartoon Star Wars. Now he's trolling, and we both know there are parts out there where he could easily get confused. Jack understands the basics of right and wrong, but trolls will just," Sam clawed at the air with his beer and kale. "They're going to tear him down, Dean. One day, you'll be off doing something, and I'll find him setting up some 50 Shades coerced consent shit." Tossing the kale in the vegetable drawer, Sam collapsed into a chair by the kitchen chair. "I can't do that, Dean. We've both attracted our fair share of crazy, maybe even demon deal or spell using stalkers, but this? This is a super-powered horny baby, and we've got nothing."

 

"We could always send him to Jody's?" Dean suggested.

 

Sam frowned. "She would be better parent material. He'd have Annie and Claire too."

 

"See!" Dean smiled. "Problem solved."

 

"Problem not solved. Castiel's his dad - step-dad -whatever. We'd have to confirm with him and Jody first. It's a lot to ask Jody to take on, and we'd have to do it in a way that doesn't make Jack feel like we're just getting rid of him," Sam pointed out. He lifted the beer to drink then groaned and shoved it away. "No amount of alcohol will make me forget what I've learned today."

 

Dean smirked as he put the rest of the groceries away. "Don't be too hard on the kid. He isn't the only one striking out in the love department."

 

Brows furrowing, Sam sighed. "Cas is still shutting you out?"

 

"Made his favorite meal when you took Jack to the library. Really made it - fresh ground beef from a butcher's, handmade patties, fries, whole kit. Barely got a word out of him." Dean shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and dropped it on the table. 

 

"What's this?"

 

"List of everything Cas's ever liked," Dean explained, sitting down across from his brother. "Check marks mean I've done 'em since he got back. Stars are for successes."

 

Sam nodded, pushing the list back toward Dean. "Jack really isn't the only one striking out." 

 

"Think the best thing for Jack might be me setting a better example," Dean murmured. His fingers drummed against the wood of the table. 

 

Sitting back, Sam stared at him. Dour lines wrinkled his forehead. "Don't give up, Dean."

 

"But Jack should?"

 

Sam floundered, and Dean wished he could admit how hard giving up would be. Drowning sounded less painful. He'd spent two months professing his love again and again from grand gestures to subtler things. Castiel noted them. Made a point to notice them before rejecting them. Any attempts at hand holding or touching of any sort led to confused stairs and low voiced comments. Before Castiel's last death, they'd been so easy. A hand on the shoulder here. A hug there. Nothing was remotely easy anymore, and to have Jack trying alongside him just made the cracks all the more apparent. Castiel had chosen.

 

The angel assumed Dean would give up, and two months later, Dean had little choice but to prove him right or become the jackass who wouldn't take no for an answer. Everything he did could be turned around by Castiel in Dean's treatment toward Jack. Castiel didn't owe him a chance. Whatever they had been, Castiel didn't want anymore. Dean just wished he known the last time they'd kiss would be the last though he had no idea what he might have done differently had he known.

 

"What if he sees this as a victory?" Sam asked.

 

Dean shrugged. "I date other people. See he's not choice number two. That he's not even on the list."

 

"Those people aren't Cas, Dean. What if Jack gets angry? Lashes out?"

 

"Then we get a better idea of who he really is and have all the more reason to hand him over to the professionals."

 

"Professional Parent - Jody'd love to hear that," Sam said with a smirk.

 

With a chuckle, Dean stood. He walked out of the room, hesitating for a moment at the door before he walked away.


	13. Chapter 13

Time slipped through Jack's fingers. Michael came with an army of angels and fell in a blaze of wrath born of a love refused - grief born in the distance between Castiel and Dean. Like a tethered cord, the Nephilim broke, watching all he loved fall away. Doors sealed with demons behind, and Heaven whispered shut the hordes which - replenished by those who betrayed Michael - needed Jack no more. A blink could send the souls doomed to purgatory on their way. Rain fell. Each cold droplet clung to the matching emptiness within the young man's heart. As Metatron sunk into the patience of his library, Jack watched the world slip forward and back.

Dean bore Sam from a blaze. Four years old, he stood a wisp of light in a darkness overrun. 

Before his sixth birthday, Dean leveled a gun. Each bottle shattered. No bullet wasted. A sad tableau of paternal love as John nodded, offering only the barest acknowledgement. Even this, for the starving boy, was enough. 

Ten and with Bobby, Dean tossed a ball back and forth. Love equates to such simple pleasures for hunters. 

When Dean sat in a warm room and ached to stay and to go, Jack caught his hand. Those green eyes had never been so lost even before Castiel left the Empty. 

Sam left Dean behind for Stanford. Twenty-two, Dean drank in the corner of a dive bar. His eyes glimmered. Green and glazed as they studied the slow descent of droplet through the condensation on the bottle. Years of watching - though time meant little to an immortal Nephilim - but the desolation in Dean's slumped shoulders moved Jack.

Trudging through the door, he forced his eyes to the ground. In his periphery, Dean watched him like a predator. He'd done the same with everyone who entered. Some traits couldn't be drowned out with alcohol. Through and through, Dean Winchester was a hunter. Everything his mother never wanted for him. Blood surged with the cold hostility of a monster in the shape of a man, but the way his soul shimmered, a beacon in the dark, Jack wondered how any creature could fail to realize that that man had angels watching him. How could they imagine any could look away?

Buying himself a beer, Jack spun the bottle, passing it between his hands. His eyes slid to the back corner where Dean sat. With his back in a corner, Dean could see the whole room. Tapping his leg, Dean glanced up. Their eyes met. Full pink lips lifted into a smirk only to fall away as if his mind reminded him what brought him to the bar. Somewhere else, John Winchester drank. Miles away in a motel with a bottle of rum, a journal, and a fury - John Winchester batted around the idea of his soldier - who should have been his son, and his son - who would end up being his mission. The idea left a bitter taste on Jack's tongue. Time remained. Fast and faithful, the turns of time couldn't be changed without consequence, and even if Jack could, he didn't want to move a moment. 

Young and just as beautiful - but so much less world weary than he would one day be - Dean stole his heart. Pushing away from the bar, Jack carried his beer over to that booth in the corner. Dean kept his eyes down, but when he tilted his head, the weight of his attention landed squarely on the Nephilim. A question trembled on his lips, but Jack swallowed it back, sitting down across from the hunter.

"One day, I'm gonna marry you," Jack told him. It wasn't a lie - there was still time. 

Dean snorted into his drink. "Tell me you've got a better pick up line than that."

"Are you religious?" Jack asked, and Dean's brow furrowed. A smirk spread across Jack's lips. "Because you're the answer to all my prayers."

A chuckle bubbled out of Dean, and the hunter licked his lip as he shook his head. "Cute."

"Even if there wasn't gravity on earth, I'd still fall for you."

Taking a swig of his beer, Dean cocked an eyebrow. He seemed to challenge Jack. The sparkle in the green and the upward tilt of his lips - he offered a willingness to listen, to endure more flirtation, and though everything told him this would just blow up in his face like every other time, hope brewed anew in Jack's chest.

"You must be a hell of a thief because you stole my heart from across the room," Jack murmured. His eyes scanned Dean's face. A slight red rose to his cheeks, but that could have been the drink. However, the hunter's eyes sparkled. If nothing else, for the time, Jack could help Dean forget. "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back."

Dean licked his bottom lip, and Jack watched the trail of his tongue until Dean slid his beer aside. The man shifted, leaning across the table. Curling his fingers in Jack's collar, Dean pulled the Nephilim forward. Jack's pulse raced. His grace swelled, but Sam and Castiel had taught him well enough how to suppress it. With a shudder, he allowed Dean to move him. Their lips pressed together - gently at first like the warm rays of the sun, but like the sun, the kiss intensified as Dean focused directly and solely on Jack. 

One of Jack's hands cupped the nape of Dean's neck. The other slid to where, one day, Jack would brand his mark. Flushed and wanting, Jack pressed into the kiss. Every touch from Dean electrified him. As Jack's cock stirred to life, the noise of the bar ebbed to a rush like the sound of the sea in a shell. If the moment never stopped, Jack would've been content. Pulling back, Dean smirked. His green eyes danced as he sat back. Frozen in place, Jack fought to let him go.

Cheeks burning, Jack ducked, glancing up at Dean through his bangs. "You're so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line."

"Bull," Dean laughed. "But I'm gonna use that one."

"Not tonight I hope."

With a shrug, Dean took another sip. Even having watched the other man's life, there were stories hidden in those green eyes which Jack wanted to spend eternity hearing. Eternity living side by side, making more memories. Sighing, Jack slipped out of the booth. Dean stared. Up went that eyebrow. His cocky smirk remained in place, but two of his fingers tapped against the neck of the bottle. Sliding into the booth on the same side as Dean, Jack inhaled slowly. This pause lasted barely a second, but young Dean - this Dean - didn't have the patience to wait for Jack to gather his courage. The hunter knew what he wanted, and Jack's heart soared that - for the first time - it was him. Hands wrapped in Jack's jacket. They pulled him against Dean as close as they could get within the confines of the booth. The taste of beer and salt passed between their tongues. Sliding a hand along Dean's side, he wrapped the other around the side of Dean's neck. Beneath his fingers, Dean's pulse fluttered. 

Silence stretched in the bar, and though Jack stopped hearing anything but the soft breathes from Dean's lips, the hunter hadn't. Pulling back, Dean surveyed the collection of expressions on the bar's other patrons. Most weren't paying attention, but behind the bar and at a table on the other side, faces contorted into sneers. Dean's fists clenched. He glared down at the table, then his eyes softened. Downing the rest of the beer, Dean shoved Jack out of the booth. Jack stumbled, but Dean stood, catching him the lapels of his jacket.

"You're coming home with me."

Home rang alarms in Jack's ears. John Winchester remained at the motel. "Mine's closer."

Shrugging, Dean wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders and escorted him out of the bar. He never stopped to look at the staring men. Instead, he swaggered as if taunting them before the door shut behind them. Dim lights lit the dark, and Dean's precious car had been left a cool walk away. Jack never learned to drive, and Dean, despite his clear speech, had ingested too much to drive safely.

"So? Where's yours?" Dean asked, and the weight of him settled more on Jack's shoulders.

Shifting on his feet, Jack crowded Dean against the wall. Drunk and young, Dean only smiled and wrapped both his arms around Jack as the Nephilim kissed him once more. Pressing his body against the hunter, Jack shifted the world beneath their feet. They landed in a nice hotel. One Dean probably would enjoy, but not so fancy that he'd feel uncomfortable when he left in the morning. When he backed away, Dean stumbled.

Jack frowned. He couldn't do this. "You're drunk." 

"I'm not drunk, I'm just intoxicated by you," Dean joked, but he leaned too heavily on Jack to be telling the truth. 

A beautiful big bed - a view of the night sky out the window, but he couldn't. Years of yearning from close and afar - but he wanted Dean with his whole heart. One day, he hoped, Dean would look him in the eyes with all his faculties and believe Jack worthy of a more profound love than the vague protective friendship he'd so far managed. 

"I don't want a one night stand," Jack whispered. His blue eyes fell to his shoes.

Dean's fingers lifted his chin. "I'm not good enough for anything else."

"What?"

The hunter's lips quirked into a sad smile. "I'm not drunk. Everyone leaves, kid. I don't even know your name, and you're worried about not wanting a one night stand?"

"My name's Jack."

"Dean," the hunter returned. "Not the point."  Blinking, Dean glanced around at the room. "Okay...maybe I'm more drunk than I thought." Even as he said the words, his eyes slid to study Jack suspiciously. "How'd we get here?"

"My car," Jack lied. "You fell asleep. I didn't know where to bring you, and then..." He couldn't make love to Dean on a foundation of lies. The Nephilim had spent so much time and energy to ensure everything he'd said was true, but the lies seemed to be working better. It was a blow from which he didn't know how to recover.

"Not drunk. Tired. Different. Now...you're going to fuck me until I can't remember my own name, got it?" Dean commanded. 

Giving Dean a chaste kiss, Jack assured him, "I want nothing more than to do that."

"Then do it."

"I can't.  You're drunk."

"If we're having this conversation, I'm not that drunk," Dean argued. 

Jack shook his head and turned to leave. When Dean made no protest, the Nephilim glanced back. Dean stood with his fists clenched and his shoulders hunched. His eyes glared down  at the ground. In his jaw, the muscles jumped for the tension. Though Dean didn't know him, Jack had become just another person walking out on him. Abandoning him. Considering him not good enough. Swallowing the tears which rose to his eyes in empathy, he rushed back, embracing him tightly. Dean stiffened for a moment before, slowly, wrapping his arms around the other in a return of the embrace.

"I won't leave you." 

Dean hummed. "But you won't fuck me." He leaned into Jack, and when the Nephilim pulled back, the hunter' eyes were half-lidded. He swayed on his feet. For all his talk, Jack had correctly called Dean's bluff. 

"Let's lie down."

Leading Dean over to the bed, Jack undressed the hunter, letting the hunter undress him in turn. Nobody commented on Dean's gun, and when Dean saw the branded marks, he chuckled. "Kinky."

"It's a protective ward against demonic possession."

Eyes widening, Dean asked, "You into supernatural shit?"

"Hunter."

Dean frowned. "Bullshit."

"Grew up a hunter," Jack informed him. He kept his eyes locked on Dean's, hoping the other would see the truth there.

"Don't bullshit me," Dean retorted even as they curled beneath the covers side by side. "You recognized me, didn't you?"

"Heard about you, yeah...didn't think you'd be interested in me," Jack confessed.

Dean didn't respond verbally. Taking Jack's arm, he curled to press his back into the Nephilim's chest. Jack held him close. He pressed a hand possessively against Dean's smooth, muscular chest. A kiss against the back of Dean's neck brought a lighter laugh. Jack smiled. The curve of his lips pressed into Dean's shoulder.  
  
"Never cuddled before," Dean murmured. "Not really the trusting type."

"Our kind usually aren't, but I'll watch over you tonight."

Humming softly, Dean closed his eyes. "Mom used to say I had angels watching over me."

Once Dean's breath evened out, Jack closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth radiating off the man's body. No angels watched Dean Winchester tonight, but a Nephilim would.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Jack left in the minutes before young Dean woke. A press of lips to Dean's forehead, and Jack pulled himself away from the warmth of the bed they'd shared. He hadn't intended to interfere, but as harmless as a single night sleeping side-by-side wasn't, if he dared to stay a moment longer, the Nephilim wouldn't leave at all. Slipping back through time, Jack stepped out in an alleyway. Calling where he ended up the present seemed incorrect, but he had left the Winchesters in 2018. 

Hiding himself from view, Jack left and found Dean within a matter of moments. The mark on the hunter's arm called to him. Sam was nowhere in sight. While he wasn't sure where Dean meant to go, the abrupt turn twenty minutes in signaled something was off. Dean entered a diner. Jack watched from the window - rechecking he was invisible as Dean ordered for himself and for someone else. When Jack's general hamburger order and sweet potato fries sat across from the hunter, the Nephilim frowned and headed inside. 

"Jack." It wasn't said aloud, but - like angels - Jack could hear when his name was said in the solemn whispers of the mind. 

Jack frowned. "How did you see me?" he asked, slipping into the booth across from Dean.

Lifting up his sleeve, Dean showed off the hand print scar. "Tingles whenever you show up apparently." He left the sleeve drop. "Some weird Horcrux Harry Potter shit."

"Does that make me Voldemort?"

Dean snorted. "Too Hufflepuff for that."

Picking at his fries, Jack glanced around. "Where's Sam?"

"Back at Stanford," Dean replied. "Finishing out the year, so he can join up as a specialist for the FBI."

Jack furrowed his brows. "Why?"

"You whammied ninety percent of the monsters to purgatory. What's left are pretty harmless - or people we actually know and are attempting to help - so...what does a hunter do without monsters?" Dean paused long enough for the question to hang, but not long enough for Jack to suspect it was anything but rhetorical. "We've seen the shit humans can do. Hunters are coming together to shift focus to more human monsters. Some don't want to risk Hell, but hey...been there, done that."

"You won't go to Hell."

Rolling his eyes, Dean drank his soda. "Not planning to."

"So you are simply expressing a lack of fear of that possible result," Jack hummed. "No, I don't like that."

"Good to hear." Dean leaned back. His eyes scanned Jack's face. 

"What?"

The hunter shrugged. "You look good, kid."

"Not a kid. I have been alive exactly twenty-seven years and fifty-four days," Jack returned. Narrowing his eyes, he recounted. "Wow, I hadn't thought about that before."

"Seriously? And here I thought you turned up to celebrate your first birthday with me," Dean quipped as a crowd of waiters came over to the table with an overly candled cake.

They set it down before Jack, clapping and signing Happy Birthday. Heat rushed to his cheeks, and Jack's eyes flicked between them and Dean, who sat back with a smirk. The Nephilim's heart swelled. Multidimensions, hundreds of years of travel, and he still found himself basking in every fond look from Dean Winchester. Brief flirtations hadn't amounted to anything with anyone else. No one else mattered. Not like Dean, and sitting in the glow of Dean's soul once more, Jack melted in the joy and grief that he wouldn't be able to leave as easily a second time.

When the crew left them to the cake, Dean plucked the candles, setting them on his plate. "Happy birthday, even if it's fifty-four days late for your time-traveling ass."

Smiling, Jack reached out, taking Dean's hand. "Thank you, Dean." His heart soared when Dean allowed the touch for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Kids deserve birthday cake," Dean replied.

Jack sighed. He didn't want to break the good, but with the question of Sam answered, another weighed heavily on his mind. "Where's Castiel?"

"Heaven."

Jaw dropping, Jack fumbled for words. "Why? The gates are closed. He won't be able to come back."

"Wanted to be the inside man. Nobody believed the angels will stop plotting to get back out," Dean said with a shrug. "So...inside man."

"But...he could've...you two could've...I left because I thought..." 

Shaking his head, Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Wouldn't have worked out between us. I get that now."

"Why?"

"Human, angel...life spans don't exactly match up."

Jack clenched his hands into fists. "I could've helped." Dean's eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed, but he didn't speak. He waited as Jack continued, "I could've made you an angel - I can do that! I learned how to do that while traveling. I changed a whole world of werewolves back to humans. Not all of them were happy about it, but some were, and I've gotten better at concentrating on individual people. I could link your lives together, so you would stop aging, or...or...I could've fixed it."

"No,  Jack, you couldn't've. This wasn't something to fix," Dean explained. 

"But you love him."

"I did. I still do in some ways, but..." the hunter trailed off, shaking his head. 

"I'll open Heaven back up!" Jack exclaimed. When eyes drifted their way at the noise, he shifted to a whisper. "I'd do it. I can do it, Dean. Get you in there or get him out if you want to stay with Sam. I can do it. I want to do it."

"Just stop," Dean commanded, and Jack shrunk back. 

"Please, Dean. I know I can't make you happy, but I'll do anything to get you someone who can," Jack confessed. "I love you, and I don't expect you to love me back ever...but...please?"

Dean licked his lip. His tongue moved in the same way now as it had back in that bar, and Jack leaned forward, entranced with the pale pink of the hunter's lips. He'd kissed those lips. Dean had kissed him, and he'd kept his word. He wouldn't kiss Dean without permission, and he hadn't, but that grief-filled, young, happier Dean no longer existed. He'd become the brave, selfless man before him. Every trait amplified until it dug out any sense of contentment and left settling in its place. Dean Winchester deserved to be loved - deserved to not settle in his loneliness.

The words slipped out when nothing he could think of matched the smile they'd produced all those years (and hours to Jack) ago: "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back."

Blinking, Dean tilted his head. "Jack..."

"I'm sorry," Jack bowed his head. "I know you don't want..."

Before he could finish, Dean leaned across the table. He curled his fingers into Jack's collar the same way he'd done all those years ago (just the night before) and pulled Jack forward. Jack's pulse raced. His grace swelled, and he pushed it back down as their lips pressed together. Warmth spread through him. A cold ache he'd never realized burned in his bones faded. One of Jack's hands cupped the nape of Dean's neck. The other slid over his mark. Sparks flew. The diners lights flickered, and Jack yearned with all his being. Pulling back, Dean smiled. His green eyes burrowed into Jack's soul. This time, when Dean pulled back, he let their hands remain touching. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" Jack's brows furrowed.

"Okay," Dean repeated. "You're twenty-seven years and fifty-four days old after all."

"I am," the Nephilim agreed, beaming.

Dean chuckled. "Don't think I'm letting you jump into bed with me this time."

"What?" Jack blanched. "You knew? Did you always know? Did I change things?"

"No, no, probably not."

"Then...the line? Really?"

"Not had many pick-up lines thrown my way," Dean informed him. "Least nothing that I actually remember responding to."

"Good," Jack said. 

"But if this doesn't work out," Dean warned.

Brushing his fingers of Dean's palm, Jack smiled. "Okay."


	15. Chapter 15

Movies dropped away when the chase ended. Keeping someone, that was infinitely harder. Yet every day, Jack woke up with at least one thing in his life to smile about. When they transitioned from two rooms to one, the Nephilim smiled before he even opened his eyes, curling back or around Dean depending on how they moved in their sleep. If Dean noticed his aging slowed, he never said anything. Sam did, but after an awkward talk, the younger Winchester returned to a human lifespan, and Dean - well, a long quiet conversation later, and Dean didn't.

Jack hummed, curling an arm around Dean's waist. "Morning."

Turning around, Dean pressed their foreheads together. His voice deep and gruff as he blinked away sleep. "Hey there."

The hunter's lips shifted into a smirk. Fingers trailed along Jack's ribs beneath the blanket. A shiver ran down the younger's spine. Stretching forward, Jack pressed his lips to Dean's. His own hand skimmed Dean's hip, pulling the other closer as he groped Dean's ass. Chuckling into the soft - lazy caress of their lips, Dean rolled, throwing a leg over Jack's hips, so the younger ended up beneath him and between his legs. Jack groaned. His hands slid over Dean's hips as he tossed his head back against the pillow in nonverbal protest as Dean sat up, letting the blanket fall away from him. Tan skin glimmered like gold in the pale morning light. 

"I was warm," Jack half-heartedly protested even as he bucked, rubbing up against Dean while his hands squeezed the strong muscles of the hunter's backside. Dean scoffed, reaching over their heads to grab one of the packets of lube he'd stashed around the bed. Every time Jack changed the sheets, he'd find them conveniently hidden for every position Dean and he ended up in. "Condoms?"

"Gonna shower anyways."

Jack snorted. "Sheets?"

"Laundry day!" the hunter cheered, swooping down to kiss Jack. When he pulls away, he sucked on Jack's bottom lip. His eyes darkened to a forest green as lust clouds them, but love sparked in the darkness. "I love you."

The words never failed to incite a fire within Jack's grace or a burning ache within his soul. "I love you too." 

Lubing his fingers, Dean reached back, sliding the first back inside himself. Whether being penetrated or penetrating, Dean was a giver. While Jack often equated this to a need to be in control - to ensure everyone remained safe (as much to protect himself as his partner), the lack of greed reminded the Nephilim of the young man in the bar. Broken and left behind. Givers needed givers, after all. Rearing up, Jack drew Dean down to meet him. Their lips tangled as Jack's fingers replaced Dean's. The slid of tight heat sent a growl from his lips. Giving didn't always come naturally. This - if nothing else - wasn't something he'd ever give away. 

"Beautiful," Jack whispered.

His fingers pressed into claims his mouth left the night before when having Dean inside him wasn't enough. He'd wanted the whole world to see the brand, and Dean just wasn't the kind to go sleeveless in winter - so his lips sucked claims that left Dean laughing and groaning in unison. Pressing his thumb against one, Jack smirked as Dean moaned. Dean's eyes met Jack's, and he sunk down slowly, taking the other's cock inch by inch. Falling back onto the bed, Jack gasped. Words drifted out of his mind. The slow grind of Dean's hips replaced all else.  His hips rolled in a hypnotic, teasing pace. Every muscle tensed, illuminated by the oncoming dawn. 

Wrapping a hand around Dean's cock, Jack met the fall of Dean's hips and matched it in strokes. Nothing about their movements could be considered rushed. They had a number of hasty couplings. Those were better left to post-hunt nights or reunions if they ever had to spend a night apart. When time spread itself before them, the pair enjoyed the thrill of savoring each touch. Years of losing left an ache in Dean's bones. No demons, no angels - no threat of Jack burning on a ceiling. Hell hounds wouldn't rend Dean's flesh, and no vampires would bury their teeth in his neck. Time stretched before them, and Jack knew they'd take every second of it.

"Feel so good," Dean murmured, watching Jack through half-lidded eyes. 

Jack hummed, tracing designs into Dean's skin with his free hand. "We could do this all day." 

"Not gonna last all day."

A flash of gold, and Dean's back pressed into the mattress as Jack held himself over the hunter. The tight slid as they shift positions sent a shiver through both of them. Digging his fingers into Jack's shoulders, Dean threw his head back. His eyes clenched shut. Jack kissed and bit along the exposed skin of Dean's neck. Tracing the path he'd followed the light before with his tongue, the Nephilim pushed in, shifting his hips to guide his cock to stimulate Dean's prostate. Each thrust pulled a whimper from the hunter.

Dean blinked. His eyelashes fluttered as he gasped, "Not helping."

"Nephilim," Jack chuckled. His eyes glimmered gold. "I could keep you like this for eternity if you wanted."

"But where's the shower sex in that?" 

"Transportation."

"Food?"

"Postmate."

"We'd scar the postmate boy."

"Point."

"Bet the pizza man wouldn't mind."

Jack groaned, pressing his forehead to Dean's. "Not while I'm inside you, Dean."

Running his hands through the other's hair, the hunter hummed. "Point."

Thrusting into the tight warmth of Dean's body, Jack released his hold on the moment. Dean gasped. His exhalation sparked a chain reaction as time jumped back into place. Heat coiled, exploding through Jack and Dean slightly off tandem. Curled around each other, they collapsed back to earth. The cooling sweat on their bodies sent shivers across their skin, and Dean reached out to wipe his semen off of them with the sheet.

"Good way to start the morning," Jack said between kisses to Dean's shoulder. Dean turned his head to face him. At the other's furrowed brow, Jack paused. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"I need to ask you something."

Jack's eyes widened. Swallowing, he licked his lip. "Yeah, sure, anything."

Dean sat up, and Jack followed. Inhaling slowly, the hunter looked the Nephilim straight in the eyes and asked, "Can I borrow a kiss?"

Jack snorted, pulling his husband in to kiss him. "You jerk," he murmured. "I thought you were going to ask me something serious."

"What? We already got hitched. Not many more important questions to ask." Dean slid off the bed, swaggering toward the shower.

"Kids."

Glancing back at Jack, Dean cocked a brow. "Adopted or powered into existence?"

"Either."

"Adopted."

Jack smiled. "Okay."

"Now..." Dean gestured toward the bathroom. "I believe shower sex was part of our vows."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I have completed this Jack/Dean tale. I may dabble in this - but I'm going to try not to do another chapter fic (even unintentionally) for a while.


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